


The Persistence of Memory

by enigmaticblue



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-30
Updated: 2010-11-30
Packaged: 2017-10-13 11:14:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/136747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Helen Magnus was ready to be done with grief.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Persistence of Memory

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the hc_bingo prompt "insomnia".

The Sanctuary was quiet; the empaths had departed the day before, their expressions sympathetic in spite of the losses they’d suffered at John’s hands.

 

Helen can only assume they’d discovered his sacrifice, and had felt her sorrow.

 

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw John’s face, and heard his assertion that he had no destination in mind. She hadn’t slept since he disappeared, and she couldn’t understand why. She’d spent more than a century not knowing where John was; she had moved past her grief, moved past the regret she’d felt at the changes the source blood had wrought.

 

Something in John, some hidden darkness, had been triggered by the infusion of the blood, or so she’d believed. Now, another possibility had presented itself—if the darkness in John’s heart had always—or mostly—been due to the energy creature, to an outside influence, then she might have saved him.

 

If only she had known, Helen might have had John back for good.

 

She stood in the window overlooking the city below; she’d always thought it the best view in the Sanctuary, and it’s where she often came to think. She couldn’t find clarity tonight, however. She was too exhausted. She would need to sleep soon, but not tonight.

 

Tonight was a time for remembering.

 

“You should be asleep.”

 

Helen smiled. “Hello, old friend.”

 

“You haven’t slept in three nights.” Bigfoot was the only person Helen knew who could express so much disapproval through his tone of voice alone. “You ought to be in bed.”

 

“I can’t sleep,” she confessed. “I keep seeing John’s face.”

 

Her grief made her heart ache like a day-old wound, and Helen couldn’t understand why she would be grieving him again. She had lost John so long ago, she’d thought all her mourning him was over and done.

 

“He sacrificed himself for the Sanctuary,” Bigfoot agreed reluctantly. “And for you.”

 

“I am so tired of mourning those I care for,” she confessed, exhaustion causing her to say more than she’d intended. “I’ve lost too many over the years, and yet it feels as though I’ve lost more in the last six months than in all the years before.”

 

“Dr. Watson, Ashley, and John Druitt,” Bigfoot grunted next to her. “You have lost much.”

 

She blinked rapidly. “Yes. I have.”

 

“You should still be sleeping.”

 

His words startled a laugh out of her. “I will.”

 

“If you can’t sleep, you should take something,” Bigfoot insisted. “And if you can’t think of anything—”

 

“I can,” she replied. “And I will. Tomorrow.”

 

“Magnus…”

 

“Tomorrow,” she repeated. “I’ll take something then, but tonight—tonight I just want to remember.”

 

Bigfoot grunted. “See that you do. I’ll make tea.”

 

She turned to look at him. “You should sleep, too.”

 

The expression he turned on her called another smile to her lips, and she probably should have known better than to even make the suggestion.

 

“I’ll make tea,” he said in lieu of an answer.

 

Helen perched on the window and leaned her head against the glass. She was sick to death of loss, and sick to death of going over and over every memory she had of John to discern what she’d missed.

 

It was both easier and more difficult to remember the time they had been together, before they had taken the source blood, before they’d been changed. Easier, because those memories were so precious—harder, because she might have had that again if only she had known better, if only she’d discovered a solution in time to save John.

 

“Here.” Bigfoot appeared at her elbow with a cup of tea, and Helen took it with a grateful smile.

 

“Thank you,” she said softly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

 

He stood next to her, a strong, quiet presence. Not for the first time, Bigfoot reminded her of the bedrock that formed the foundation of the Sanctuary.

 

“You need sleep, too,” she reminded him.

 

He grunted. “I’m fine.”

 

Helen took a deep breath. “Thank you.”

 

He just shook his head. “Tomorrow, you’ll sleep.”

 

“Tomorrow,” she agreed and sipped her tea.


End file.
